


In The Dark

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early-to-middle-ish!Klaine.  Kurt teases Blaine in a room full of their friends and then gives him a blowjob after everyone falls asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [In The Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162465) by [Katerina_Hummel_Di_Angelo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katerina_Hummel_Di_Angelo/pseuds/Katerina_Hummel_Di_Angelo)



It's chilly in the basement, so no one comments when Kurt drags a fleece blanket around them as they settle to watch the recording of their last competition set.

Burt and Carole had said goodnight after making sure that no one had smuggled alcohol in—Kurt had rolled his eyes ("Dad, I'm classier than that—also, that carpet was not cheap.")—so now it's just a small group of them, pairs where pairs exist, sprawled out on sleeping bags and pillows and blankets all over the room.

Blaine makes them watch the recording twice at full speed without stops before going through it song by song at reduced speed. It's important to self-criticize, and he has specific ideas about what they can do to perform better next time.

The New Directions' patience lasts about as long as the third number. Santana throws a pillow at his head. Puck starts eying the basement window and muttering about escape and the quickest jogging path to the nearest liquor store. Sam is surfing the Internet on Blaine's phone. Rachel is on Blaine's side, but she is easily distracted by Finn. One by one, they all check out and stop listening, until finally someone suggests a generic movie choice that they can all agree on, and Kurt flicks the DVD case across the room with a resigned sigh.

"This is what happens when we trap them in a small space without alcohol and ask them to tolerate each other," he says, settling against Blaine's side.

"I don't know why they aren't more concerned. Our timing on the eleven o'clock number was atrocious—"

Kurt slides his hand across Blaine's chest, wriggling his fingertips in between two buttons to touch his bare skin in a calming gesture. "We can always bring it up during Glee."

Blaine sighs, sinking into the couch cushions with a pout. "I guess."

"You're cute when you're being all perfectionist-y."

When he turns his face, Kurt catches the corner of his mouth with a kiss. "Thank you."

The movie is entertaining, but Blaine is cranky and Kurt's fingers are still rubbing between his shirt buttons, and the sensation is much more distracting than it usually is, especially when Kurt lifts his head from Blaine's shoulder and presses his nose and mouth against the side of Blaine's neck. He kisses Blaine there, and Blaine smiles and scratches Kurt's scalp at the back in response.

Except then Kurt does it again, while popping one button on Blaine's shirt to get his fingers against Blaine's left nipple.

Blaine blushes hot and whispers in Kurt's ear, "Kurt..."

Kurt smiles against his skin. "What?" He pinches Blaine's nipple between two fingertips and gives it a little twist.

"Bad," Blaine murmurs, going hot all over.

As the movie goes on, Kurt repeats the process on his other nipple, and then goes on to trace the backs of his hands, drawing shapes over his knuckles and wrists. And then it's the flat of his thigh, and the inseam of his jeans, and back again to his chest, stroking him above his clothes but below the blanket, until Kurt has touched every bit of him that's out of view. He vibrates with sensation, going so hot that the blanket's warmth becomes stifling in no time at all.

Breathing rapidly, he squeezes Kurt's arm. He's all too aware of their friends around them. He knows that there is no shortage of shameless public intimacy in this group, but normally he and Kurt don't indulge in that, and he isn't sure what's gotten into Kurt tonight, or why he himself is practically purring in response.

"You smell really good," Kurt whispers, ghosting his mouth over Blaine's earlobe.

Blaine shivers. "You're driving me nuts."

Kurt's fingers slide down his thigh, dip inward to the neat crease of the inseam, and his thumb strokes upward, just to the side of Blaine's still-behaving penis. His ears burn as Kurt's thumbnail scrapes over the fabric.

"No one can see."

Kurt rests his hand there, and for the next half hour or so he does nothing more than line his thumb up alongside Blaine's clothed penis. It's more than enough to make Blaine begin to twitch and swell, and before long he's shifting on the couch, not quite rubbing against Kurt's hand but trying to get it tighter, harder against him. He can't help it—it's like the thing between his legs has a mind of its own.

"I was just going to tease you," Kurt whispers, hot and breathy against his ear, "but I guess that wouldn't be precisely fair now..." He brings his thumb up and over Blaine's growing bulge and strokes it.

Blaine's hips jolt. He inhales sharply, staring around the room. As predicted, half of their friends are making out and the other half are either falling asleep or face-first in their phones.

"Kurt," he breathes, his eyelids dipping. The drag of that single finger is like torture, and getting hard in his tight slacks at the angle he's situated at is uncomfortable. The head of his cock throbs as it flushes with blood, sticking to the inside of his underwear, which is beginning to grow damp with sweat.

"Yeah?" Kurt asks, pressing a little harder.

"We could, um—bathroom, maybe?"

"Why?"

Blaine pants, shifting around. "I—I'm—"

"I'm aware of that," Kurt finishes for him, sliding his pointer finger alongside his thumb, and dragging the two fingers side by side back and forth over Blaine's bulge.

"Oh my god," Blaine whispers, sinking deeper in the couch.

"Mmm," Kurt hums, closing his hand around the shape and squeezing. "Better not make any noise. They'll look over."

Chest hitching, Blaine spreads his legs. It eases the ache, but not by much.

"And if we get up and leave, they'll just follow and bang on the door. They'll tease. They'll know." Kurt continues stroking him through his pants, whisper soft and at an even, slow pace. Kurt's breath is coming in hot little bursts against his neck.

It rapidly becomes a question of putting the brakes on entirely or just—letting it happen, and Kurt's tangible excitement is spurring his own, making him stiffen so quickly that he feels dizzy from the blood relocation.

"Can I open your pants?"

"Oh, god," he whisper-moans, feeling himself throb in his underwear, against the front of his pants. Not everyone is asleep, though, and when Kurt's fingertips play with the button on his pants, he begins to shake with both nerves and excitement. Getting hard in front of people is compelling—contemplating getting off in front of them is a little scary.

"I could just keep going," Kurt says, deliberate and coy and a little filthy, "but then you'd stain your clothes."

"That's going to happen anyway, if you keep touching me."

Kurt pops the button on his pants, and then lowers the zipper slowly, tooth by tooth, obviously trying to limit the noise that doing so makes. Each tick makes Blaine's cock jump, and by the time that his fly is open he's so hard that he fills the curve of Kurt's palm without any effort on either of their parts. Kurt hums with satisfaction and rubs him. There's a wet spot on his underwear and Kurt circles it, adjusting him against the front of his underwear.

"This may get worse before it gets better," Kurt drawls, sucking subtle little kisses into the space behind Blaine's ear. "Until everyone's asleep and I can put my head in your lap."

"Oh my god—"

He really isn't going to make Blaine wait for that, is he?

The movie ends, and Rachel bullies the person closest to the TV into turning off the DVD player. One by one, the people who are still awake settle down to sleep, until it's just two or three people on their phones. And then two, as batteries begin to beep and they go for their chargers. Finally it's just Sam, who tries to engage Blaine in some pre-bedtime conversation.

Blaine sits there, sweating and red-faced with Kurt's fist loosely jacking his cock through his underwear, trying to act normal. His pulse is roaring in his ears—Kurt has incredible hands and knows just how to touch him to keep him on edge, never repeating, never overstimulating any one spot, managing to surprise him with every stroke.

There's a moment where he thinks he might just come in his underwear while Sam talks at him about Marvel comics fanfiction websites.

Kurt, grinning into his shoulder, stops long enough to allow him to back down. He releases his death grip on Kurt's leg and shudders in relief.

Finally, the lights are off and the room is quiet. Kurt bites his earlobe and then sucks it. Blaine goes from calm to jittery in seconds flat, the freedom of no one looking at them making the urgency spike again. He floats on detached, yawning need, arching his neck and falling back against the couch.

"Please," he whispers, digging his fingers into Kurt's hair. "Please, please, I'm close."

"You're so soft," Kurt replies, lifting him out of his underwear with careful fingers. "Silky on top, but so hard underneath. Sometimes I daydream about the way your cock feels when it's in my mouth."

"Kurt," Blaine whimpers, rocking his hips.

"I have wanted to suck you off all night." Kurt licks his lips, and Blaine feels the graze of his tongue. "Can you be quiet? Quiet enough to come right here? Right now? In front of everyone?"

"Yeah," Blaine gasps, so far gone that there is no other response. "God, yes." He feels like he might pass out from trying to not breathe loudly or make noise, but his cock is bobbing against his stomach, standing vertical just outside of Kurt's reach, tight and thick. His balls feel like skin stretched over a drum head, and the need for friction and to come is overwhelming.

Kurt kisses him in the dark, wet and soft and fast, and he stifles a groan between their mouths while clutching the back of Kurt's neck with one hand. Desperation bleeds off of them, and he almost whines when Kurt pushes him away and shifts the blanket aside.

Even in the darkness of the basement, the sight of Kurt's chestnut brown head sinking into his lap is enough to make his cock pulse and dribble. Kurt nuzzles his erection, the faint stubble on his cheek providing torturous friction before he edges his mouth in, and then it's soft lips and breath instead. Blaine bites his lip, takes in a slow breath through his nostrils and doesn't put his hands anywhere near Kurt's head.

He can't even beg, or say anything. He's entirely at Kurt's mercy.

The wet, warm tease of Kurt's tongue feels ridiculously good. The pace is just this side of deliberate, Kurt licking at the shaft of his cock until it's jolting against his lips and then finally, finally touching the head, silky wet flesh turning circles around and over the width of the crown, getting it wet and making it fill even farther. He dips the tip of his tongue into the slit, and Blaine chokes on a noise, sitting forward suddenly. Not breathing right is making him light-headed.

When Kurt opens his mouth and sinks down the first time with a muffled groan, white pops behind Blaine's eyelids.

He holds onto Kurt's shoulder and lists forward, his jaw dropped and his throat hitching as Kurt begins bobbing up and down on his cock in short little bursts. It's perfect; it's too perfect. Kurt takes him to the root easily, and then sucks, hard, hums of pleasure vibrating over his skin. It's probably the dirtiest blowjob that Kurt has ever given him—Kurt doesn't let go, doesn't pull off, just swallows him and sucks him down, over and over again.

Blaine watches the blanket that's half-hiding Kurt's head from the room rise and fall rapidly. Wet friction has become his entire world, the feel of it, the sound of it, Kurt's wide, hungry mouth eager on the veins and ridges of his cock, lavishing the head with each rare pause.

And then Kurt takes one of Blaine's hands, and puts it on the back of his head.

"Oh," Blaine breathes.

He presses down, and begins gently thrusting up into Kurt's waiting mouth. His heart races and his balls tense, and all it takes is one glance at the mounds of sleeping bodies all around them, and the thought that Kurt—his gorgeous, perfect boyfriend—is sucking him off in front of all of their sleeping friends to bring him right to the edge of orgasm.

Anyone could wake up and see how they are together. In point of fact, any one of them could be awake right now, sneaking a peek, or listening to the noise-not-noise of Blaine trying not to hyperventilate, or to the hollow slurping of Kurt's mouth around him.

He's going to let go. He's going to come in Kurt's mouth, right now, in a room full of people.

He can feel Kurt whispering encouraging gibberish against the head of his cock, the frantic huff of his breathing, the saliva on his chin and upper lip, the powerful suck of his mouth and the tease of the back of his throat as he bobs faster and faster still, until Blaine can't focus on anything else.

He twists his fingers in Kurt's thick hair and holds him still for several seconds, rutting along his tongue and against the inside of his cheek and the roof of his mouth, which tightens in response, and—it spills over, warm rushes of pleasurable release lashing down Blaine's spine and legs and groin, the letting go of what feels like days of pent-up tension, his balls and the base of his cock pulsing, the shaft throbbing in between Kurt's lips as he coats the roof of Kurt's mouth and the back of his throat with pulse after pulse after pulse of come.

Kurt swallows through it, sucking him slow and careful with lips pursed tight to keep the mess inside. He's shaking and sweating under his clothes. Shapes dance in front of his eyes, neon against black in the darkness, and his fingers tremble as they stroke Kurt's hair and shoulders. He's officially overheated, and when Kurt sits up and moves the blanket aside it's a profound relief.

He's still reeling from the orgasm when Kurt discretely wipes his mouth and chin.

The look of impish accomplishment on Kurt's face makes him grin and blush. He draws Kurt in by the small of his back and kisses him, tasting the sharpness on his lips.

"If you wanted to go to the bathroom to clean up," he says, smiling, "and maybe return the favor, I wouldn't be opposed."

Blaine takes his hand and pulls him off of the couch with a not-so-quiet laugh.


End file.
